It's A Sam Thing
by InsaneInk
Summary: Sam won't quit staring at Dean. Dean finds out why when he's dragged across the Impala. Rated M, yes, Wincest.


Dean fidgeted in his seat for the fifth time, realizing it was useless trying to convey his uneasiness to Sam.

"I know I'm smoking hot Sam, but do you have to keep staring?"

Dean glanced over at his brother, who was still watching him with a glazed look. Sam hadn't even heard him.

"Sam. Hello? Earth to Sam!"

Sam flinched backwards into the car door when he realized Dean was waving a hand in his face.

"Dean…what?"

Dean pulled his hand back and firmly placed it on the wheel, knuckles white and eyes flicking from the road to Sam.

"I've been trying to get you out of la-la land for five minutes Sam."

"What?"

"You've been staring at me for half an hour."

What? But Sam was only looking at- Oh. Right.

"Uh. Sorry?"

Dean raised an incredulous eyebrow at Sam, like he was expecting more. Maybe he was, because sometimes Sam just couldn't help himself. Sometimes he had to just _look. _

Sam can understand that his blatant display of creepy affection would not be understood by Dean. He wouldn't tell Dean what he was staring at either.

Nope.

"What the heck Sam?"

Wouldn't say it.

"Sam."

Not at all.

"Sam!"

"Your hair!" Sam exclaims, immediately sinking lower in the passenger seat in an attempt

To blend in with the upholstery. Unfortunately, Sam was wearing green, which didn't quite match the smooth black leather of the Impala.

"Excuse me?"

Sam covers his face with one of his hands, dragging it down his cheek while staring out the window.

He can't help it, Dean's hair is, it's...it's..

Sam doesn't even have words for this, he just wants to touch his brother's hair, and maybe right in that spot where it disappears behind Dean's ear, maybe lick there..

"Sam!"

"Wha-"

"You're doing it again!"

What was he doing?

"Christ.." Dean mutters, and then Sam kind of short circuits, like somebody shoved an electrical wire down his throat, because Dean runs his hand through his hair, one of his nervous habits, and Sam can see the soft strands surround his brother's hand, and it's just _too much-_

"Gwaarr," Sam says, and Dean really doesn't have anything to compare that noise to, except maybe a dying giraffe, but it gets his attention nonetheless.

Dean pulls the Impala over, cutting across four lanes and pissing off a bunch of people, and he could care less because his brother is having a metal breakdown or something in the seat next to him.

He turns to Sam, who is statue-still, eyes wide and fixed on some point above Dean's face.

"Sam..?"

That's all Dean has time to get out before Sam reaches out to yank on his jacket and use his sasquatch powers to drag Dean across the bench.

"What the-" That was not a squeak, squeaks are not manly, and if anyone says otherwise _ever, _Dean Winchester will personally kick their ass to the moon.

And then Dean doesn't really care anymore about his undignified noise of protest, because Sam has turned into a giant cat and is rubbing his face all over Dean's head.

The hell..?

Dean Winchester deserves _some _credit; really, it only took him an hour and a freaky head rubbing to remember that they had to leave the motel so fast that he never got to put any gel in his hair.

And the fact that neither of them had gotten haircuts recently, so not only was Dean's hair product-free, it was longer than usual.

Dean feels like an ass.

Seriously, who forgets this kind of stuff?

Kinkage for his hair seems like a pretty big thing to neglect.

Dean will make up for it. Definitely.

Sam nearly comes in his pants when Dean pushes his shirt up and rubs his sandy blonde hair over Sam's stomach.

Sam does come in his pants when Dean removes said evil shirt that blocks Dean from Sam's skin, and brushes his soft hair against Sam's nipples.

Sam collapses backwards into the door, still with a lapful of Dean, and watches his brother alternate from looking at Sam's face, to his pants.

Dean finally snorts, grin inching into place. "You need help Sam."

Dean sits up, almost running his hand through his hair again but is stopped by a low, happy noise from Sam.

"A lot of help apparently. Do you think they have therapy for hair-kink? I wonder what-"

Dean cuts off, frozen at the wicked grin on Sam's face.

Sam crawls over to Dean, pushing him against the driver's side door, and sucks his brother's cock till Dean bashes his head against the window and comes down Sam's throat.

It was a good day.


End file.
